A Curse Most Foul
by Sally-SooandMorgan-M
Summary: Sam and Dean travel down to Texas to help two young witches. Will they survive when everything from vampires to gremlins seem determined to make the four's lives a living hell?
1. A Spell of Fainting

**Chapter 1: A Spell of Fainting**

"Damn! We gotta stop doing this shit!" Sam said, gasping as his hand came away from chest covered in blood.

"Eh, it's a living," Dean muttered. He had his cuts and bruises too. He was more worried about his car though. "Damn shapeshifters, always gotta throw things around."

There was a small scratch on the hood of his baby, evidence of the fun they had being thrown around.

"So," Sam said, collapsing in the passenger seat. He watched Dean climb in the driver's seat. "Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Oregon?"

"Nope," Dean smirked. "Texas."  
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"Sally!" Morgan called out in panic. "Sally! Help!!!"

Sally came running out of her bedroom, fingernails still wet, tacky, and bright violet. "What is it? What's wrong?!"

"Help!" Morgan yelped. Sally spun around the corner into the bathroom and bent over laughing.

"This isn't funny!" Her roommate was nearly in tears. She had just gotten out of the shower and was reaching for the towel when the bane of their existences, the poltergeist from hell, had jerked it out of her reach. Now, she was suspended in midair, naked except for her long red hair. The towels were twirling around her in a demented midair dance. "Sally!"  
Finally over her laughter, Sally ran into the room and grabbed Morgan's ankle. She tugged hard and down she came. They tumbled to the floor, a tangle of limbs, hair, and now released towels.

Morgan glanced over at Sally. "We have got to get some help."

"Yeah," she murmured. "But let's not mention the naked dog-pile, okay?"

With a philosophical shrug, Morgan stood up and wrapped a towel around herself. "Well, ya know, it happens!"  
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"So, what's in Texas that's so important?" Sam asked as he folded the map to show their route and handed it to Dean.

After studying it for a moment, Dean handed it back and gave his younger brother a cocky smile. "A poltergeist."

Sam groaned. "Not again!"

"Yup, only this time, it's in some college girls' apartment," Dean started practically drooling. "Two beautiful, young, scared college girls."

Sam elbowed his brother, trying to keep him on topic. "So? Poltergeist? Any violent history in the place?"

"Nope," Dean admitted. "Apparently the two girls are both witches and tried to fix the problem themselves but nothing worked. They did their research: place was built 10 years ago, before then it was just empty pasture. No murders, suicides, Indian burial sites, unmarked graves, or curses attached to that patch of nothing."

"Hmm . . ."

Dean could practically see the wheels turning in Sam's head as he mused over the information.

"So we have a poltergeist haunting two girls past adolescence so they aren't the ones causing it. The ground their apartment is on has no violent past. Plus, apparently none of the other apartments are having trouble, another point against it being the earth." Sam ticked points off on his fingers. "Two witches, so they should have the strength to expel this themselves but can't." He glanced over at his older brother. "You know, this is gonna suck majorly, right?"

Dean smirked. "That's what makes it fun!" He pressed the gas pedal to the floor and shot off in the night.  
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Morgan lit the final candle and settled on the floor, legs folded. Breathing deeply, she inhaled the angelica and thyme she had burning. Rubbing the silver medallion hanging from her neck, she tried to find her inner calm. It was difficult however, with the poltergeist banging on the surface of her protective circle.

"Leave me alone," she half-sang through clenched teeth. The attacks were getting more violent and more frequent as the days past. It was hard to believe this had begun a mere month ago. At first it had been little things: doors closing on their own, taps opening and closing, shorts in the electricity. Things had quickly escalated. Early this morning, barely past midnight, both she and Sally had been awoken to find their covers and bedclothes being ripped off. Soon, invisible hands had picked them up and threw them against the walls. By the time the attack was over, their bodies were covered in scratches and bruises. They had cast a circle, curled up together on the living room floor, and cried themselves to sleep.

"No more," she muttered and reached for her chalk. She closed her eyes and started chanting. Latin flowed from her mouth, into the air, and began taking shape. The chant guided her hand, chalk to the hardwood floor, tracing symbols whose meaning was no longer known. The power built up more and more. The symbols and chanting flowed quicker now, reaching a crescendo.

The front door flew open and two men stepped in. Sally came flying out of the kitchen. "Morgan! No!"

The magic peaked, in invisible wind raising her hair, lightening flickering in the depths of blue eyes. "So mote it be!" she shouted, finishing the spell. Light flared, pulsed out, then, with a sound like a popping balloon, burned out.

"Well damn!" Morgan stated, then keeled over in a dead faint.


	2. Cursing and Incantations

**Chapter 2: Cursing and Incantations**

Sally knew that Morgan should not have been practicing such large magic alone. However, she didn't think it was the spell that had knocked her out; Morgan had been casting way too long to have used up her stores of magic like that. But with a malevolent spirit this powerful . . .

Without even bothering with introductions, she ordered the two strange men, "You, pick her up and carry her to the sofa. You come with me to the kitchen and help carry water and towels."

She spun about, knowing the two would do exactly as she said thanks to the mental 'push' she had used with her words. They complied as she knew they would. She was still too concerned about her friend's safety and health to concern herself with the strangers. She knew that Morgan would survive this. She was a strong witch with an intense magical heritage but she also knew that her friend would be a while in regaining her magical prowess and natural protection. This was especially dangerous with the poltergeist about. She would have to guard them both. Dean accompanied her to the kitchen while Sam gently laid her on the couch. She turned on the tap, cursing in an angry growl. "She knows better, damnit! Fuck. I'm gonna kill her! Fuck!" She nodded to a drawer that contained dish towels in response to Dean's look of bewilderment at the strange kitchen. He opened it and threw one at her. She caught it, held it under the water and wrung it out rather more harshly than necessary.

"Curatio integro. Abduco condolesco. Reservo firmatas e fortitudo," she whispered above her friend, clutching the large turquoise heart encased in silver that hung at her throat while pressing a cool damp towel to her friend's forehead. "Quiesco pax. Sino haud pravus invado." Healing is difficult magic even without a malevolent spirit about but now it was all but exhausting. She fought the headache and fatigue because she couldn't let the evil encroach on Morgan's vulnerability. Luckily healing was Sally's forte.

Sam had been watching over Morgan. She had groaned in pain a few times but hadn't moved other than an occasional fluttering of the eyes. She had deep red hair that suited her. Her face was luminous despite the obvious discomfort she was in. She was still holding her silver medallion, her focus. He and Dean watched as Sally chanted over her friend and how Morgan's features became more relaxed till she sighed with unconscious relief. Sally had taken Morgan's silver scrying bowl and filled it with water and dried juniper. It was this that she used to cool Morgan's inflamed head. It was obviously very difficult for the young woman to control her composure long enough to complete the spell but she managed. After a few minutes silence she stood and pulled out the couch. Still she said nothing. She strode back to the kitchen and fished out six candles from a cabinet and grabbed the three that Morgan had lit for her circle. She arranged the nine around her tranquil companion and lit those that weren't already. She then grabbed a old worn quilt and laid it over her friend, making sure it wouldn't catch fire. Again she rose but this time nearly toppled over, her adrenaline deserting her. Both men reached for her, each catching an arm. With their support she stumbled to a chair. Looking up at the handsome men at her side she smirked inwardly. _Morgan would be so jealous right now._

"Thanks," she half-mumbled, not with insincerity but with weariness. "I assume you're the guys that Granya's so fond of?" "Heh… That's us," replied Dean with an appealingly cocky grin. "Is she going to be ok?" Sam interjected, gazing at Morgan's peaceful figure. "She should be fine. Nasty migraine when she wakes up though… Serves her right for attempting that shit alone," she said, her voice a little stronger but her words didn't belie the concern and affection she felt. Her eyes again flitted to Morgan's face in worry. Sam smiled sympathetically. "Was she attempting to expel the poltergeist on her own?" Dean asked incredulously. Sally winced in pain. "Apparently…"

As her vitality returned so did her civility. Sally ran about the kitchen in a restless way. Dean had his feet propped up on the plain black coffee table, already halfway thru his second beer. Sam took an absent-minded sip from his. They both jumped a little however when Morgan groaned.

"Sally?" she murmured. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, her hands fluttering up to her focus. All actions froze however when her eyes lit on Sam and Dean. "Ajutor! A lua departe de la eu!" The Romanian words acted like a spell, freezing the brothers in their chairs. Sam could feel invisible hands holding him tight against the cushions.

"Morgan," Sally called from the kitchen, "they're okay. Let 'em go."

"Oh," Morgan blushed. "Sorry. Tu eşti drum liber."

Sam and Dean both jumped out of their chairs as soon as the invisible hands released them. "What the hell was that?"

"That," Sally stated, as she waltzed out of the kitchen, "is the power of a hereditary witch at its weakest."

"Huh," is all Dean said. Morgan smiled sheepishly and sat up. "Again, I am sorry. It's kind of a knee-jerk reaction."

Sally handed her a cup of chamomile tea. "Here, Chica."

"Thank you," she murmured, gladly inhaling the soothing aroma. "So, um, who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean," the younger brother said.

"Oh, the ones my bunică talked about!" she smiled.

"Bunică?" Dean asked, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Romanian," Sally explained. "Morgan is half Romanian. She was trained to cast by her Romanian grandmother, or bunică."

Morgan smiled at her friend then yawned wide enough to pop her jaw. "Wow, I'm tired!"

"What did you expect? That was some major mojo there!" Sally glared a bit at her.

Morgan hung her head. "I'm sorry . . . I heart you!"

Sally shook her head and smiled. "I forgive you, just don't scare me like that again!"

"Mmkay!" Morgan reached over and hugged her friend. Sally returned the hug, then eased Morgan back down as she suddenly fell asleep.

"She okay?" Sam leaned forward nervously, for some reason not wanting the young red headed witch to be hurt. "Does she need something? Anything?"

"Oh, no, she's just a bit tired-" Sally's explanation was broken off by a wide yawn of her own. "Casting-"yawn "-is hard work. Especially when you're dealing-" another yawn "- with a pissed off spirit."

She slumped down next to Morgan, both fast asleep in moments.

Dean glanced from one witch to the other. "Huh."


End file.
